She had not managed it.

Between my husband’s patient proof and my daughter’s fearless love, the capacity came back, the way my strength came back, a little at a time, until one ordinary morning I noticed it was simply there again, whole.

Esme came padding down the hall in her favorite yellow sundress, bright-eyed, unafraid, and hugged me around the waist.

“Good morning, Mommy.” Darius came in behind her with two camp lunches he’d packed, set them down, and wrapped his arms around me, his chin on my shoulder.

“How do you feel today?” he asked softly.

“Whole,” I told him, and meant it.